


Don't Let Your Emotions Control You

by elliv131



Category: Hanna (TV 2019)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliv131/pseuds/elliv131
Summary: A story about Marissa Wiegler as a young adult and the circumstances that made her do the things she did.
Relationships: Erik Heller/Hanna Heller, Erik Heller/Marissa Wiegler, Hanna Heller/Marissa Wiegler
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Don't Let Your Emotions Control You

"Your mother is gone, Marissa."

The seventeen year old girl just nodded. Her father's words weren't unexpected; she'd played this scenario over in her head at least a hundred times since her mother's cancer diagnosis on Christmas Day nearly a year ago.

"Can I see her one last time?" she asked finally, keeping her voice steady, emotionless.

Marissa's father glanced down at his watch and sighed. "Five minutes. Isaac and I will be waiting in the car." He gestured towards the lanky teenager who was Marissa's twin brother.

Marissa crept toward her mother's hospital room, and slowly pushed the door open. The still, lifeless form on the bed was already covered with a sheet, but little reminders of her lay about the room. A family portrait, birthday cards she and Isaac had made a decade ago, a blue silk dress much too loose for her mother's thin frame now.

Suddenly, it was too much. Marissa buried her head in her hands and cried all the tears she didn't know she'd been waiting to shed.

When she turned, her father was standing behind her. "That's enough crying. You can't let your emotions control you. Not if you want to make it in this man's world."

•

"You haven't made a decision yet." It was a statement, not a question, and inwardly Marissa sighed, knowing the conversation that was to follow.

"You're nineteen years old now," her father continued. "Your brother has been going to Harvard for a full year now."

"I'm not my brother," Marissa answered shortly. "I don't care about school. I have a job. I help pay the rent. I want to stay here." Here was home. Here was where her mother had lived.

"But I want more for you, daughter." Her father's voice was kind, but Marissa wasn't fooled.

"Let me work for the CIA then," she said simply. "I got a business card with a phone number from the conference I went to last month."

"You know how I feel about that!" He raised his voice, and in a sudden fury rose from his chair and lunged toward her. 

This time, she didn't wait for him to hit her first. With all her might, she hurled a punch at him, and though her heart pounded with shock in her chest, she didn't gasp when she saw the blood.

"You can't act let your emotions control you," she whispered matter of factly. "Not if you want to make it in this man's world."

In the bathroom, she tended her own wounds. Some girls would call them ugly, but Marissa thought they looked strong. She was not, she realized, the helpless girl she'd been when her mother was alive. She'd learned to stand up for herself. She was a fighter.

The only thing that didn't fit her tough demeanor was the red hair that came well past her waist. She hated the style, but it had always been that way, the way her father liked, to please him. With barely a moment's hesitation, she grabbed a pair of scissors and began to cut it off, watching with satisfaction as the thick locks hit the floor.

Then, she pulled the business card out of the back pocket of her jeans and dialed the phone number.

•

There were thirty of them. Thirty infants under the care of a woman who'd told people from the time she was a little girl that she didn't want children. 

They kept her busy for sure. She tired quickly of their neediness, their crying, but the work was somehow fulfilling. At the CIA, she was an asset. She had risen in rank unusually quickly, her attitude and skill admirable by any standards but particularly impressive for a twenty three year old who'd be barely out of school in the normal world.

She was raising them to be assasins, a process that began just days after birth with injections of wolf DNA. For maximal affect, additional doses were given every month. Today was one of those days.

For a brief moment, Marissa paused by the crib of Johanna Petrescu's baby. Hanna, the baby's mother had called her. Marissa had seen the pain in Johanna's eyes as she'd given the child up, then watched with a surprising hint of jealousy as Erik Heller wrapped his arms around Johanna.

Did she love Erik? Marissa didn't know. All she knew was that his comforting gesture had bothered her. It wouldn't matter now anyway. 

Pulling out the syringe, Marissa turned back to Hanna. The baby's eyes were wide and she whimpered softly. She couldn't possibly remember the injection from last time, could she? Was she even smart enough to associate the pain with the needle? 

"Shh, baby," Marissa whispered. "It's just for a minute." 

To her surprise, Hanna quieted as if she understood. The small fist of her failing arm wrapped around Marissa's pointer finger, and Marissa wished it hadn't. Was it right what they were doing at Utrax? Hanna was just a child. She hadn't had a choice in being involved. In a different life, she would live in a happy home, adored by a mother and father, maybe even brothers and sisters. 

Marissa shook her head. No, in a different life, Hanna would be dead like all the other babies, aborted before she even had a chance at life. Utrax was for the best. 

Marissa stuck the needle into Hanna's tiny, waiting arm. No emotion, she reminded herself, not in a man's world. The Utrax children were nothing to her. Nothing but the means to an end.

•

"Terminate the project." Jerome Sawyer's voice was cold and hard.

Marissa stared at him in disbelief. "There isn't anything else we could do?" She asked finally. The look she received was one of irritation. "The money, I mean. The resources and the time we poured into it."

She expected Sawyer to yell, but instead his voice grew deathly still and quiet. "Erik Heller broke in, Wiegler. He stole a child. He could expose the entire program. You work for me because unlike Heller, you care about Utrax, don't you?"

Marissa nodded - what else was there left to do?

"Good. Then cover up our tracks."

Marissa knew what he would have her do before he handed her the syringes of poison. She felt suddenly dizzy, and had to take a deep breath to steady herself. It was just the same, she told herself. It was just like any other injection. But she couldn't believe it, not when she knew.

She remembered her father's words, spoken nearly seven years ago now. You can't let your emotions control you. Not if you want to make it in this man's world. 

She hated him for the way he talked to her, for the way he looked down on her just because she was a woman. But the words had given her liberty, too, liberty to stand up to him, liberty to follow her dreams instead of his. Liberty to hurt him. The world was a cruel place and if you wanted to survive it, you had to do cruel things to keep up. 

Marissa closed her eyes and put the needle in another tiny arm.


End file.
